Wild Dreams
by te amour
Summary: A collection of moments in the Hunt's long history, centered around Zoë and Artemis.
1. Autumn, October 1865, Swiss Alps

**Autumn, October 1865, a valley in the region of the Swiss Alps**

A cold, stiff wind blew through the valley, and Zoë, for the hundred and fifty-first time, brushed a few loose strands of her stray hair out of her eyes.

The winds today were free, eager, powerful and wild, howling and whistling through the short yet concentrated trees in the basin, and Zoë had long since given up on her attempts at keeping the few rebellious strands of her long, dark hair inside her braids. She could not afford to let such a trivial occurrence distract her, not while she had a hunt to finish, and especially not while the dreadful conditions required all her concentration.

She knew the fox could sense her, and could nearly see the sly smirk on its face as it undoubtedly ran in circles around the valley, leading Zoë in a game of wild goose chase.

Unfortunately, her own, human senses were not nearly as perceptive, even with the blessing of Artemis, and over the afternoon, she had been stumbling after her prey, being led aimlessly as the fox effortlessly avoided her eyes and ears. The loud, whistling wind did little to help her pick out the sounds she needed, the differences between the snap of a stick assaulted by the wind and the crunch of a step on the leaf-covered ground, the slight distinction between the rustling leaves of the branches swaying violently in the wind and the brush of a body against the bushes in the forest.

A sudden, unnatural rustling of leaves to her left made her freeze in her tracks. With her centuries upon centuries of experience, Zoë had long since learnt to judge the time between a gust of wind and a rustle of the leaves. That one almost certainly did not fit in the pattern. The previous gust of wind had been nearly ten seconds ago, and the delay in between the time when the wind struck and when the branches responded should certainly not be that long. It could only mean one thing.

It was near.

Another crunching sound of dry leaves breaking apart caught her attention. This time, it was to her left. The fox must be slowly circling around her, teasing her but remaining just out of sight or reach.

Pressing herself back up against a large tree, Zoë silently brought out her bow and nocked a steel-tipped arrow. She was determined to catch it this time, determined to not let it fool and humiliate her again.

Another chilling gale swept through the trees, only adding more nerves atop Zoë's already erratic heartbeat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew sight would do her no good right now, when she didn't have an inkling of where the fox might be. It was far too experienced for that. She had to rely on her ears.

 _Crunch_. Barely audible, but Zoë caught it, somewhere straight in front of her. Her eyes snapped open as she zeroed in on a patch of shrubs dead ahead, around fifty steps away. Carefully, taking extra care to not make a single sound as to alert the fox, Zoë drew back and adjusted her elevation. Any mistake would not do. The skies were darkening, and if she did not make this shot, she would fail.

There! A flash of orange appeared in her vision, peeking out just a centimeter or two from the bush. Zoë released her shot. The arrow seemed to travel in slow motion as it flew tantalizingly slowly towards her target and over the bush. She couldn't tell if she had missed or not, she could only hope.

Her hopes turned into reality when a blur of orange and brown raced from the bush towards her. As it approached, Zoë could very clearly see the arrow embedded in its side.

"Success," she sighed in relief. A laughing sound emitted from the animal as it morphed into the shape of a young girl with lush, auburn hair and silver eyes, holding the arrow by its shaft.

"Indeed," Artemis said, pressing a quick, chaste kiss onto Zoë's lips as the arrow vanished into thin air. "A very good shot. If the arrow had been tipped with celestial bronze, I would have sustained quite a severe wound. Although," the goddess continued, "it took you much longer than an usual hunt of this difficulty would take you, dear. Perhaps you are out of practice?"

Zoë could only shoot her goddess a dry, amused look. "I could not guess why, my lady," she replied wryly. "Perhaps the result of being cooped up on an island for over four years."

"You know it was necessary, love," Artemis chided, lightly walking behind Zoë to wrap her arms around her waist, resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder. "I was one of the few who had a sanctuary of peace. Others were not so fortunate."

Indeed, she was right. Artemis was able to take shelter on the island of Delos, her birthplace, to escape the splitting headaches and migraines that was a result of the American Civil War, the bloodiest war in recent history for both mortals and demigods alike. The conflicts and battles between the Greeks, who fought for the Unions, and Romans, who fought for the Confederates, sparked such discordance and clashing between the god's two personalities that it rendered most of them useless and unable to function as the Greeks and Romans alike called on their gods for support and blessings.

Zoë supposed she should count her blessings that her goddess wasn't as heavily affected, but being practically _imprisoned_ , for lack of a better term, on an island did not seem like much of a blessing at all. Delos, while beautiful, was rather small in area, and as a result, all the novelties of the island had already been discovered by the Hunters in a mere few weeks, and life had become tedious and monotonous rather quickly.

"How is Olympus coping?" Zoë inquired. "Has everybody returned to their normal duties?"

Artemis hummed in thought. "More or less," she finally replied, idly playing with the baby hairs on the back of Zoë's head. "The most called-upon gods are still recovering - father is still bedridden, and Ares, while able to function, has such a severe case of migraine every day that no one can stand to be within a mere step of him, due to his loud groans and curses. Athena is in a worrying state, calling for war on Rome in her muddled mind - understandably, of course, her Roman aspect is not well respected in Rome at all. And of course, my dear brother is as immature and promiscuous as always."

Ah yes, Artemis's brother. Apollo, having been identified as "Apollo" in both Greece and Rome, did not have any problems during the course of the war. There is no telling how many more innocent maidens he had seduced. Zoë was sure that, in a decade and a bit, there would be an abundance of Apollo's children suddenly appearing at both camps.

"Surely the gods must take action," she pointed out, "to prevent such a catastrophe from ever happening again."

Artemis nodded, removing her head from Zoë's shoulders. "There will be no absolute decisions until father recovers," she said, "but there is a general idea of wiping the demigods' memories and keeping them apart as much as possible. Impractical, and rather foolish, if you ask me. It does not solve the problem at its roots, only delays it until next time."

"Yes," Zoë agreed. "The best course of action would be to resolve the conflict once and for all."

Artemis sighed, then brightened as she skipped lightly in front of her. "But enough about that, my lovely bloom." In a flash of playfulness, she added with a smirk. "I'm sure you are eager to do something else for a change, preferably to me?" Zoë blushed as her goddess wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

"You think me fool enough to believe that the goddess of hunting could be caught against her wishes?" She laughed softly. Artemis smirked.

"That is assuming that I do not wish to be caught, my dear." And that was enough incentive for Zoë. She surged forward and trapped her goddess's lips in an eager kiss. Her earlier words had been more than just wry sarcasm; it _has_ been way too long since she has had time with her goddess, alone, without the Hunters or the gods. Of course, she loved her sisters dearly, but enough time spent without break with a dozen prepubescent immortal teenage girls took its toll on her mind. It was rare enough that they could justify this kind of "hunting trip" together, perhaps once every year or two, and after four, long years of her patience wearing thin, well, who could blame her if she wanted to grab her mate by the scruff and roll around in the soft blanket of autumn leaves on the forest floor together, if only for the sheer joy of spending time with her lady and love?

A gasp of surprise was torn from her as Artemis pushed her down. She fell roughly onto her back, but the thick layers of dry, orange leaves cushioned her fall with a crackle. Artemis lay above her, their bodies ever so close but not quite touching. Despite the heat radiating from her goddess's body, Zoë shivered as she stared up into the large, silver eyes that she held so dear in her heart. The normally bright orbs were dark with hunger and passion as Artemis's full, red lips curled into a lazy, smug smirk. "My lady-" she began, but was cut off by her own gasp of pleasure as the goddess nipped teasingly at her sensitive earlobes.

"Shh," she murmured against her ear. "Don't talk, my beautiful Nightshade. Just enjoy the moment."

And enjoy it Zoë did. There was a time for everything, a time for duties, a time for hunting, and right now, it was a time meant for her and her mate only. They were in the wild, alone, with only each other, and a wild creature and her mate answered to nothing in their own territory. Zoë's hand wound into Artemis's lush, auburn hair in a moment of fearless confidence, and she could feel the smile on her goddess's lips against her own as she dragged her close again.

"Tonight, my love, you are mine," Artemis breathed against her lips, "and I am yours."

Zoë smiled.


	2. August 1917, Passchendaele, Belgium

**Summer, August 1917, The Battle of Pilckem Ridge, Belgium**

 _Note: this was inspired from when Zoë mentioned in the Titan's Curse that she was there at the Third Battle of Ypres, during World War One. I thought it would be an interesting prompt to base a short story off of, and did an infinitesimal amount of study on it. You are welcome to correct any factually incorrect statements or historical mistakes that I have made._

"This is...horrifying," Helen muttered in awed shock.

Artemis simply nodded as she gazed out at the horrifically bloody scene of battle. She had brought her Hunters here for that sole purpose: to show them, in person, the horrors of war. Even through the thick veil of the Mist that they were enclosed in, the sickening scent of blood and gore permeated the atmosphere. The broken forms of mortal men lay stiffly on the battlefield, each and every single one of the bodies sustaining some form of terrible injury or wound, the blood-red color of the rising sun only serving to add a backdrop to the already terrifying atmosphere. The cries of the wounded filled the air along with the unending rattle of machine guns and rifles and explosions from grenades that left even the goddess's ears ringing. She spotted a mop of blonde hair out of the hundreds, if not thousands of blood-covered, motionless bodies on the ground. The boy's hat had fallen off sometime during the battle, and his pale, lifeless face was as clear as day to the goddess's sharp eyesight. He couldn't have been very old at all, perhaps around eighteen or nineteen years old, and despite her general dislike of the male gender, Artemis couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the innocent life that had been so cruelly ripped away from him and his family.

Forcing her eyes away from the morbid sight, Artemis scanned the battlefield once more. The British troops, originally having the element of surprise while pushing forwards under the cover of darkness and mist, were slowly being pushed back as the Germans' _Eingreif_ divisions, designed for instantly counter-attacking any who broke through their _Stellungdivisionen_ (front-holding units) successfully held off the British advancements as the German soldiers slowly started trickling forward under the cover of their heavy artillery fire. The increasing numbers of British bodies appearing on the battlefield bode nothing but ill for the Allied forces.

Besides her, Lydia's face was green with revulsion and horror. The daughter of Demeter, who joined them some two millennia during the peak of the Roman Empire, had always been a quiet and conserved soul, so Artemis was only mildly surprised when the girl stumbled forwards, nearly bursting out of the protective cocoon of magic, but Phoebe grabbed her shoulders and held her steady as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the ground.

The vomiting had finally stopped after around a minute of non-stop puking, followed by another minute or so of dry-heaving and retching, but the poor girl was still breathing in short and shallow gasps. Zoë, her ever-considerate Lieutenant, put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"If this is too much for thee, I am sure Lady Artemis would allow you to leave," she told her gently, looking at Artemis for confirmation. After a moment of hesitation, stopped by a pointed, nearly pleading look from Zoë, Artemis relented.

"Very well," she said, raising her voice so all the girls could hear her. "All of you may choose to leave, if the scenes become too disturbing."

One by one, the Hunters started retreating into the undergrowth behind her away from the battle. Even Phoebe, the hotheaded and (occasionally) violent daughter of Ares, left after another few minutes of listening to the cries and screams of agony. She retreated, shaking her head and muttering something along the lines of "why did I ever like war?" and "mortal men are disgusting". Every single girl left until it was only Artemis and Zoë left. The taller girl came up to the goddess and spoke, her eyes not straying from the scenes of battle.

"Perhaps bringing the girls here was a little too overboard, my lady," she suggested.

Artemis managed a smile. "While sickening and disgusting, the experience will do them well if they ever have to face war's horrors."

Zoë said nothing, but Artemis had the feeling that her Lieutenant did not totally agree with her statement.

After a moment of the pair gazing out at the carnage in silence, Zoë spoke again. "This battle is just the beginning," she said.

"Indeed," Artemis nodded. "The Germans cannot afford to give away Ypres, so they will fight to their last breath, but the Allied forces will prove too strong for them. It will be a long, bloody campaign, potentially spanning weeks or even months, but the British will win."

"Perhaps not today," Zoë pointed out. "The British divisions have lost their element of surprise. They must retreat and regroup before they are completely obliterated. I suspect that the generals will order a withdrawal towards one of the nearby farms behind them."

Artemis shook her head in amusement. "This was not meant to be a discussion of strategy, my dear. It is unlikely that the Hunt will ever participate in a war if this magnitude."

Zoë shook her head in confusion. "What is the purpose of this?" she asked.

"The purpose of what?" Artemis replied with a question, earning an annoyed glance from her Lieutenant. She knew as well as her that the goddess knew what she was asking.

"The purpose of this battle," she clarified nonetheless, gesturing at the ever-increasing amount of bodies on the blood-covered battlefield. "This war. Thousands of lives lost, and for what?"

"Power, my dear." Artemis took Zoë's hand and squeezed reassuringly. She had the feeling that Zoë was more unsettled than she let on by this scene. "Land. Military dominance. Mortal men are power-hungry. They will do anything to gain more, even at the cost of millions of innocent lives."

"But why?" Zoë questioned. "What will even more power give them? The country leaders have everything they ask for: food, riches, power, position. I fail to see what even more power can hope to accomplish."

Artemis smiled wryly. "A false sense of security, love." She stared at the still ongoing battle. The majority of the British troops in this area have either retreated or perished, but the German casualties were anything but small numbers, too. The ascending chariot of her brother gave the sky a blood-red tint. "Mortal men are paranoid. They will do anything, risk everything and everyone to reinforce their own positions of power."

Zoë shook her head, but this time in disgust. "So thou art saying that this whole war is due to the insecurities of world leaders?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "It is not so different from the world of the gods, if you consider the similarities. My father is in a constant power struggle with my uncles. In fact, I am almost certain that Poseidon and Hades are behind the Allied powers, attempting to end the German Empire that Zeus is so fond of once and for all, consequently forcing the flame of the West completely to Great Britain." She chuckled. "While I am neutral in the conflicts, I do agree with my uncles. Father has grown too arrogant in recent years for his own good, and it would prove beneficial for the whole of Olympus to have him knocked down a peg or two. And of course, this war is hopeless for the Central Powers. They simply do not have the numbers to outlast the Allied powers in the war."

She brushed a stray strand of hair behind Zoë's ear absently. "But enough about politics, my love. Come, let us head back to our camp. The girls are waiting."

Back at their temporary campsite, Artemis could immediately sense the sullen and morose mood permeating the atmosphere. Her normally bright and cheerful girls seemed upset, disgusted, revolted, and tired. Even Ari, the daughter of Hermes's normally bright and mischievous eyes were dark and solemn. _Maybe Zoë was right, as usual,_ Artemis thought. _The emotional duress the war put on the girl's minds might not have been worth the experience._

Zoë must have sensed her thoughts, because her Lieutenant gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We have seen worse," she assured her. "The girls will be fine."

"I pray to the Fates that you are right, my dear," Artemis sighed. "I took the girls here because I had a premonition." It was true. As the sister of the god of prophecy, Artemis had a limited amount of the gift as well, and could occasionally receive random and unclear glimpses into the future. "I sense that in the near future, within the next century, something big will occur in Western Civilization that will shake the Greek world, and I wished for them to be ready."

"A war, my lady?" Zoë tightened her grip on Artemis's hand.

"Perhaps," Artemis murmured. "I cannot be sure yet."

"We have survived many wars before, my lady," Zoë pointed out. "Troy, Rome, Napoleon, and countless others. As long as we are together, everything will be fine."

Artemis, her previous somber mood immediately dispelled, couldn't help but smile. "Yes, you are right," she agreed. "As long as we are together."


	3. Winter, c 260 BC, Rome, Italy

**Winter, c. 260 B.C, Rome, Italy**

 _Note: Having done some research on the time of Heracles (Hercules) and his life, I figured the one millennia mark of_ _Zoë's time in the Hunt would be around the date mentioned during the Roman Empire, just before their war against Ancient Carthage which raged on for a little over two decades. Once again, you are welcome to correct any factual mistakes I make._

 _Parts of the story is inspired by "The Flowers That You Pick" by 4Eirlys. Enjoy._

"Come now, my dear. The one thousandth anniversary of your time in the Hunt is supposed to be a _celebration,_ not a time for moping."

Zoë threw a very half-hearted glare at her goddess as she sat down heavily, leaning back against the rough but cool tree trunk. "You know why I am discontent, my lady."

And of course, she did. Her goddess knew everything - and by that Zoë meant literally _everything,_ physically and mentally - there was to know about her, from the small, leaf-shaped birthmark right underneath her belly button, exactly the size of the tip of her pinky finger, to the one single grey strand of hair, positioned at exactly the top of her head. They have slept in each other's embrace for far too much over the past seven centuries or so for Artemis, as the keen and observant Hunter she is, to not notice all the small blemishes and marks on Zoë's body; hunted with each other far too many times for her to not notice Zoë's quirks, the way her face twisted into a scowl whenever something unpleasant occurred, whether it was being "accidentally" splashed with mud by Ari or when Apollo decided to pay a visit with his divine lyre; the way she attempted to hide her smile with a raised eyebrow whenever something amusing but, ahem, _inappropriate_ was said, especially if it was about them.

Zoë liked to think that she knew all there is to know about Artemis too. She knew exactly what to say to cheer her up when she was sad; exactly where to kiss her when she was angry or disturbed. She knew about the sensitive spot to the right of her jaw; knew about the small, triangle-shaped scar on the inside of her ear Zoë had accidentally given her while sparring with wooden practice knives, exactly three hundred and fifty-nine years, four months, three weeks and a day ago. She remembered that event as clear as day: her stroke, meant as a parry, through some miracle by the gods, turned into an unintentional stab when she tripped over a stray rock on the ground and lunged forward, somehow evading Artemis's slash while also managing to graze her earlobes. She recalled them rolling on the ground laughing their heads off in a rare moment of uncontrolled mirth from both of them. Of course, Artemis, being the goddess she is, could have simply erased the scar with a flick of her finger, but she had decided to keep it as a tribute to that particular incident, something which Zoë in equal parts found sweet and hilarious.

So, yes, Zoë believed that she knew all there is to know about her goddess too - and she trusted her goddess enough to tell her any secrets concerning her well being or anything else, really. They functioned with mutual love, trust and respect for each other, knowing all there is to know about each other, especially the fact that they would tell each other everything and help each other with anything.

So, it was no wonder that Artemis would know about the reason for her sullen mood this evening. Even with the beautiful, golden sunset filtering through the canopy of the forest and the blistering laughter of her sister-in-arms as they ate, drank and mingled around the campfire, Zoë couldn't find it in herself to participate in the festivities. This day brought back rather _unpleasant_ memories, after all.

In fact, the sunset only served to dampen her already low spirits. The orange sun illuminating the few lingering wisps of cloud in the horizon looked so different yet so similar to a place where she held conflicting emotions for. A place she yearned to forget, yet strived to remember. She had been so carefree, so blissfully ignorant alongside her sisters in their garden, believing that they would spend eternity there, alongside her ever-cursing father underneath the sky, planting Moonlace flowers in the fertile soil, hoping against hope that they'll bloom and shine despite the permanent twilight of the garden, feeding Ladon his favorite treat of raw lamb's meat while petting as many of his heads as possible at once. So blissfully ignorant that she believed the fairy tales of the Greek heroes, the sons of the gods - Perseus, Theseus, Bellerophon, and most impressive of all, _Heracles._ So blissfully ignorant that she believed the world to be a pure place, and that the heroes were untainted with the mortal failings of human beings; that they were all incredibly strong, forever loyal, and eternally loving when they fall in love.

How foolish had she been, to believe in such an innocently idealistic view of the world? She knew that gods were not perfect - she knew about the womanizing ways of Zeus, the promiscuity of Apollo, the unpredictable temper of Poseidon, and the vengeful heart of Hera. She had seen firsthand how cruel the gods could be - sentencing her father to eternity underneath the sky, chopping Kronos into a million pieces and casting his remains into Tartarus, sending an eagle to peck out Prometheus's liver simply because he sympathized with the struggling mankind at the time - a species which later, the gods had become rather familiar, and in many cases, intimate with anyways. She knew the gods were not perfect, not even her goddess, and yet she foolishly believed that the heroes would be exactly that. Or perhaps, that they'd at least be _better._

That naïve belief was shattered in an instant. The day she heard of Heracles's labors, the day she caught wind that he was going to come to the Garden of Twilight, she had been giddy with excitement, although of course she suppressed it in front of her already suspicious sisters. At the time, she has long since yearned to meet a hero - no less the supposedly greatest hero of them all. And she believed that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to take her away into the mortal world. Life in the garden had began to feel quite monotonous and repetitive, so it was no wonder that the Zoë at the time yearned for a change of scenery. Little did she know, she would get more than she bargained for - much more than she had been prepared to handle.

When he arrived, in his renowned lion-skin cape and wearing only a loincloth, his huge, celestial bronze club decorated with spikes casually sling over her shoulder, it was...not necessarily _love_ at first sight. Zoë had matured greatly over the millennia spent in Artemis's Hunt - mature enough to know that love was not a word which should be so easily thrown around. She no longer believed in silly terms such as _love at first sight._ To love someone, to completely devote oneself to another, you had to know them, inside and out; you had to appreciate their qualities and bear with their imperfections and love them _regardless._ So how can one love another when they've barely met? It had taken Artemis and her nearly three centuries to come to terms with their mutual feelings. No, her attraction to Heracles had been just that - an attraction, an infatuation, a pull too weak to be called love, but strong enough to be impossible to ignore. She had felt the same for Artemis when they first encountered each other - an unmistakable chemistry between the pair, which, when put together, may produce a brilliant reaction - or a terrible mishap.

Perhaps it had been her curiosity of the outside world which had been the last straw, but in a spontaneous moment of courage - or foolishness - Zoë decided to help Heracles with his labor. She had gifted him with Anaklusmos and ran to the other side of the garden, distracting Ladon as the son of Zeus, shielded by the sword's familiar scent of _her,_ plucked an apple from the tree of immortality. She remembered her last words to him right before she ran off, which to this day rings in her ears with regret.

"I will help you," she had said. "On one condition."

He raised a thick yet handsome eyebrow. "And what might that be, pretty one?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Take me with you."

He had promised. Oh, how he had promised, with a certain, strong voice that he will take her anywhere she wished to go. And on that day, Zoë learnt that any promise, short of a binding oath, was worth nothing.

 _I suppose curiosity did kill the cat,_ she thought with dry amusement, a bitter smile playing on her lips.

"What was that, dear?" Oops, had she spoken that last thought out loud? She attempted to give Artemis a reassuring smile.

"Nothing my lady," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "Just some unpleasant memories."

Immediately, she winced at her own words. Their relationship was, as aforementioned, built on mutual trust and respect for each other, which included telling each other everything that bothered them, leaving out no details. And her thoughts were much more than simply _some unpleasant memories._ So, so much more than that. Artemis, however, simply raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"You know you cannot hide anything from me, Zoë," she said. "Come, tell me what is bothering you."

Zoë attempted to put a wry smile on her face, but it felt more like some twisted version of a grimace. "You know very well what is bothering me, my lady."

Artemis took a seat besides her and clasped her hand comfortingly. "You need to let go, dear heart. It has been many centuries since that particular incident, far too long to hold a grudge for."

"It is one millennia now, my lady," Zoë corrected. "And you have been telling me the same thing for as long as I have been at your side - I wonder if perhaps one day you will finally give up."

Her attempt to subtly divert the point of the conversation did not go unnoticed by Artemis, who smiled wryly. "I will stop as soon as you learn to let go, Zoë. This has been weighing on you for far too long."

"I have gotten better though, have I not?" Zoe pointed out. It was true, at least in her eyes - she _had_ gotten much better at controlling her emotions over the past few centuries, especially relating to this particularly sensitive subject. In fact, she thought it was rather unfair that her goddess was being so insistent on the topic, when this had been her first, ah, _episode_ in nearly five decades.

" _Better,_ perhaps, but not good enough," Artemis rolled her eyes. Zoë huffed indignantly. If this wasn't good enough, what was?

She repeated her thoughts out loud, and was given a very definite answer which brought a scowl to her face. "When you no longer have these periods of silent brooding, my dear, it will be good enough."

"It is impossible to completely forget, my lady," she argued. "Such incidents cannot be simply set aside."

Artemis remained silent for a moment, long enough for Zoë to almost believe she had won the argument, before she spoke again. "Tell me, my love," she said, leaning her head back against the tree trunk and closing her eyes. "What is it that you cannot let go? My bastard of a brother, perhaps? Your sisters? Your garden?"

What _was_ it that she couldn't let go? It certainly wasn't Heracles, that was for sure. She had lost all positive feelings for that man a long time ago. Was it her sisters, perhaps? Maybe, but after how they had heartlessly cast her out, Zoë cut all familial ties with them - especially Aegle, that arrogant girl who saw herself as a queen, she never liked her anyways - and never saw them as sisters anymore. The garden? No, the wild was much better, so much better in her opinion. The cool wind which brushed her hair as they trekked through the grasslands, the growl of a lion as it prepared to pounce on its prey, the thrill and rush of adrenaline which coursed through her body as she faced off against a particularly tricky monster…

And most importantly, the stars. The Garden of Twilight, in its permanent state of right before sunset, never had any stars. Only when she had left the garden had she first encountered the twinkling lights from outer space. No matter how many centuries she had lived, Zoë never got tired of simply lying down in the wild and gazing up at the stars, preferably with her goddess next to her. The vast expanse of them, so densely scattered they seemed to form a lake of white, twinkling and blinking, never failed to take her breath away. They - along with Artemis - had been the ones which kept her going in the early days, when the memories were still so raw and painful; the light to her darkness, the beacon of hope in her storm of near-depression. No, she would never trade the stars for her garden. They could not be compared, for the stars were completely out of the garden's league.

"I truly do not know, my lady," she shook her head slowly. "I have everything I ever wanted right here."

"Do you miss them, perhaps?" Artemis inquired. "Your sisters, I mean."

"Occasionally," Zoë admitted. "My time in the garden has always been enjoyable, if not monotonous. Maybe I just wonder…" she shook her head, dismissing that thought. The notion she had just come up with was so unbelievably selfish that it was unworthy of even a sliver of her attention.

Artemis, of course, heard and wouldn't let it go. "Wonder what, dearest?"

Zoë muttered a few strong words in mixed Greek and Latin about her goddess's overly keen hearing. "Nothing, my lady."

"Zoë." Artemis nudged her with a hint of exasperation and resentment. "You cannot hide anything from me. I thought I made myself quite clear on that."

"I do not wish to speak my thought out loud, my lady," Zoë replied. "The thought is unworthy of being mentioned."

"I will not judge." Artemis leaned in and pressed a kiss to Zoë's cheeks. "You know I won't, my beautiful Nightshade."

"Fine," Zoë relented reluctantly. "I just thought...why did it have to be me? Why could it not have been one of my sisters? Why did the Fates choose me to endure such pain? It is selfish, I know," she continued, determined to not let her voice crack for the sudden rush of emotions through her. "But I cannot help but think that it is unfair…why me?"

She lowered her head, discreetly blinking furiously in an effort to fight back tears. "Why me?" she whispered.

A hand lifted her face up by the chin gently, and Zoë found herself staring into the living eyes of Artemis. "Come with me to a place," she said. Zoë made no objections as she closed her eyes and felt the weightless sensation of teleporting. She didn't need her sisters to see her like this, right now - their supposed leader, the person they looked up to, reduced to a crying girl.

When the weightless feeling disappeared and her gut unclenched, Zoë opened her eyes once again to find herself standing in the middle of a flower garden. No, calling it a flower garden would be like calling Heracles a jerk. The sea of flowers spread out in front of her could've filled up dozens of Gardens of Twilight, present in every imaginable shape, size and color, ranging from the large yellow petals of the sunflower to the tiny, purple buds of the wisteria. A myriad of smells assaulted her nostrils - all of them sweet and relaxing. Glancing around, she made out a few dozen or so bees, zipping through the flowers as they collected honey for their homes. It was all...so amazing. Unbelievably stunning. Indescribably beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the stars.

"The Garden of Demeter," Artemis reaches out and took her hand. "Incredible, is it not?"

"Indeed," Zoë breathed out after recovering from her shock. "But why did you bring me here?"

Artemis ignored her question. "Tell me, my dear," she said, gesturing at the vast expanse of colors around them. "If you were to pick a flower from this garden, which one would you pick?"

 _An unusual question,_ Zoë thought. Nevertheless, she decided to humor her goddess. Sweeping her gaze over the wide field of blossoming plants, she let her eyes wander until they settled on an especially bright, red flower, right on the edge of the garden. "That one," she pointed towards it.

"A beautiful flower indeed," Artemis agreed. "The brightest of them all. When picking flowers, anyone would pick the brightest of the bunch. That is why you were chosen by the Fates, Zoë. You are brighter, more beautiful, _better_." She pressed a kiss to the tip of Zoë's nose. "Only you could have gone through what you went through, because you are the strongest, the best of them all. They would have been broken, you were not. You _thrived_ instead, and now, one millennia into the Hunt, you are the brightest flower of them all."

Zoë's world seemed to slow down as the words poured out of her goddess. All these years, all these centuries of moping, sulking, wallowing in self-pity, and she had never seen it _this_ way. That she might have underwent her experiences because she was _better_. Because she was _brighter._ Because she was the _brightest._

"And besides," Artemis continued softly. "You have a home now. You have new sisters, new adventures every day, everything you wished for with that pig of a man." She pulled her into a hard kiss, full of passion and love and care and more love and Zoë just wanted to melt into her goddess's embrace right there and then-

"You have me," Artemis whispered once they broke apart, both of them panting slightly, out of breath. "You have love. I love you, you love me. Is that not enough?"

Zoë couldn't help but smile as she gazed into her goddess's loving eyes. "I suppose it is," she agreed. "As long as we are together."

Artemis laughed, a bright laugh which made Zoë's heart flutter and her breathing hitch, just for a split second. "Then are we ready to rejoin the girls? They will be wondering where we have been."

"I can already sense the incoming jokes for the next century and a half," Zoë muttered as she allowed her goddess to whisk them back to the clearing. The sound of laughter and clinking cups once again reached her ears as the couple, unnoticed by the Hunters for now, gazed at the campfire, where the girls were sitting. Zoë's smile widened as she noticed Phoebe attempting to wrestle Ari to the ground with her face covered in smudge while the latter tried to evade her relentless pursuit. Some things never change.

In hindsight, why was she ever bitter? Why was she ever resentful of her fate? Sweeping the campfire with her eyes, taking note of every single happy girl, she shook her head in confusion. As she observed a quick, chaste kiss between Naomi and Cynthia, completely unnoticed by the others, she realized there was no _need._ She was - and still is, still will be - happy here, happier than she had ever been in the garden; happier than she would have ever been with that bastard son of Zeus. She might have lost a family, but she gained a new one, a better one that however good her sisters might have been, they would never have been able to surpass _this._

She pretended to not notice as Artemis rested her head on her shoulder, her goddess's mess of auburn hair spread messily over her chest, arm and back, but couldn't fight back a smile as she squeezed her hand and tilted her head back. The stars blinked and twinkled, a pool of millions of tiny little lights shining down upon them. They couldn't have looked more beautiful in that moment.

"I think I have moved on," she told her goddess softly.

A flicker of a teasing smile played on Artemis's lips. "Are you sure, my brave one?" she challenged, her voice dropping to a husky whispering as she pressed her lips to Zoë's ears. "If that is the case, then I think that calls for a... _celebration_ later tonight, doesn't it?"

Zoë shivered in anticipation as Artemis nipped at her earlobes. "If...if you insist, my lady."

"It is _your_ day today, my dear." Zoë could feel Artemis's smirk on her ears. "If _you_ insist..."

"That sounds like a suitable arrangement, my lady," Zoë managed to breathe out, despite her throat seemingly trying to choke her as Artemis trailed kisses down her jawline. She felt her goddess's triumphant grin against her face as she wrapped her arms around her body.

"Then tonight, I am yours."


	4. Winter, December 2007, Camp Half-Blood

**Winter, December 2007, Camp Half-Blood**

 _I decided to shape this piece with a few mentions and contextual circumstances of my story,_ _Sea Girl_ _. While this short piece does not completely follow the story's evidences and is purely a standalone one-shot, I do encourage all of you to go read it, if only for some context. Thank you._

"I do apologize for the past few days of hecticness, Bianca."

"No, no, it's fine," the newest addition to the Hunters hurriedly reassured her, although Zoë could tell from her body language, the slight slouch, the way her green cap was pulled over her forehead and the way she hugged herself in the winter cold, that she was a lot more tense than she let on. "It really is…" 

"There is no shame in being afraid, or nervous." Zoë's lips twitched, threatening to break into a smile as she recalled the good old days when Lydia, the reserved and quiet daughter of Demeter, had first started accompanying them on their hunts, some two millennia ago. She had been (and still was) so introverted that it had taken them three days to coax a simple sentence out of her, and even then that sentence...no, more of a phrase, was a short "no, thank you" when Zoë had offered to share a part of her venison stew with the vegetarian girl. "Thou art not the first to feel such nerves," she continued, unconsciously putting on the tone of a mother...understandably, considering she was practically the second mother of the girls. "Considering the...rather short amount of time you had since learning about our world, you are taking this quite well."

"Really?" Bianca's eyes lit up, unconsciously straightening out her spine and adjusting her cap so it pointed at a slight angle off to her left, allowing the sunlight to spill onto her face. Aside from the freckles, the girl was certainly attractive, Zoë decided. She really had no need to hide her face behind such an unattractive and mundane item.

"Yes, really." she nodded encouragingly. "Take the cap off, Bianca. You have no need to conceal your appearance."

Bianca hesitated for a split second, but Zoë could see from the sudden set of her shoulders that she had made her decision. She pulled off her hat resolutely and stuff it inside the pocket of her silver parka.

"Much better," Zoë smiled at her. "Regardless, as I was saying, we are not normally in such a hurry, Bianca. But dire circumstances call for immediate responses, and, ah, as you may have picked up, we are not in a time of peace." Judging from the nervous twitch of Bianca's left eye, and the way her hands unconsciously drifted towards her pockets, that was perhaps not the best thing to say to a new recruit. "But no matter, I am sure Artemis will be fine," she added, hoping to reassure the girl. "In the meantime, we - meaning the Hunters - rarely come to this place due to...personal preferences, but since we are here, I believe you will benefit from seeing the lives of the half-bloods - the life your brother will live."

The subtle wince from Bianca did not go unnoticed by Zoë. As much as she loved new recruits, sometimes (and she felt was the case here), she believed they made the decision rashly and hurriedly, without consideration of their family and friends. Contrary to popular belief, Zoë _was_ an understanding person...somewhat, and she understood the pain of losing her family above all others. Which is why, usually, she would point out both sides of the coin, the advantages and shortcomings of the Hunt to potential recruits. This time, however, she did not, because the Hunt needed strength in numbers, now more than ever, with the shadow of a potential war looming over them threateningly. Also...she saw huge potential in Bianca - a powerful demigod, no doubt. She hoped she would replace her as Lieutenant someday, should she fall in battle.

Her mind drifted to the other girl, the one who they had failed to recruit. The one who had rejected their offer of partial immortality and enhanced physical abilities which came with Artemis's blessing. Wisteria Jackson, daughter of Poseidon, and prime candidate for the Great Prophecy. Zoë pursed her lips. The Hunt rarely failed to recruit girls - they were usually the ones picking, accepting or rejecting, not the other way around, but it had happened with _Wisty,_ as she preferred to be addressed as. She, as with many of the girls they meet, had qualms about leaving her friends and family behind. The only difference was, with her, she had actually chosen them over immortality.

Zoë was no fool. She understood that immortality was just as much of a blessing as it was a curse...perhaps not as much for her, for she had no family, really, but for those who did, leaving your loved ones behind, seeing them wither and die of age and diseases left an unfillable hole in many of the girls' hearts. She had not expected, however, for a mere thirteen year old girl to recognize, consciously or unconsciously, that immortality was a two-sided coin.

She inwardly cursed herself as she became aware of Bianca's curious, if not slightly nervous, gaze. She had allowed herself to be distracted by her own thoughts and had forgotten all about the girl next to her. _Quite unprofessional,_ as Artemis would teasingly remark. "Do not worry, Bianca," she drew herself back to the present, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder comfortingly. "Thy brother will be fine here. As much as I loathe to admit anything good about this place, their relative safety is outstanding compared to the outside world. He will be safe, and we _will_ visit from time to time."

"No, no, I'm not worried," Bianca insisted. "I just feel...bad, I guess. Guilty."

"It will pass," Zoë promised. "A lot of the girls we have come from this place. Jasmine cried for three days after her brother died. It happens to the best of us."

"Oh," Bianca muttered. "Cheerful. What about you?" she asked with a hint of apprehension. "Aren't you like...really old?"

Zoë's lips twitched in amusement. "If you must insist on putting it that way, yes."

"I didn't mean...oh, forget it." Bianca fanned her face abashedly. Zoë raised her eyebrows. A very old-fashioned gesture she hadn't seen for decades. "Did you have any family or anything? Siblings? Brothers and sisters?"

That one hit a little too close to home. Zoë wiped her face of all emotions as she put on the blank mask she had perfected over the centuries, whenever someone asked about her past. "I have no family," she replied tightly. "Except for the Hunt, and Artemis."

"Oh...I see," Bianca said awkwardly. "Sorry for asking…"

"It's fine." It wasn't, but Bianca was new, and Zoë didn't want to scare her. "Here, let me tour thee around this camp. We will be staying here for an extended period of time, so remembering where things are will help thee." Just as she finished her sentence, they passed by the Artemis cabin, its usual silver glow dulled by the sunlight. Zoë's face threatened to break into a grin as she noticed Naomi and Cynthia discreetly...how did mortals put it these days? _Making out_ in the shadows of the back of the building.

"Uh…" Bianca raised her hand. "Did I just see…?"

"There are many secrets waiting to be uncovered by you, Bianca di Angelo," Zoë smiled challengingly at her. "The Hunt is not as simple as it seems to be."


	5. Summer, June 2006, Wimbledon, London

**Summer, June 2006, Wimbledon, London**

 _This chapter contains some history lessons that not everyone might enjoy. I did try to make it as interesting as possible, so as to not bore anyone._

 _As always, you are welcome to correct any factually incorrect elements of the story._

Zoë has always enjoyed her fair share of sports.

Of course, being not quite a half-blood, and having none of the natural disorders that come with being a demigod, she could also sit down, nurse a cup of tea and enjoy a well-written novel...or on one of her lazy days simply spend all her free time cuddling with her goddess. However, she had always preferred physical activities to the quiet and serene environment of, say, a mortal library or a bedroom (although she had her fair share of exercise in there, courtesy of Artemis). The thrill of being active, the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the rush of excitement as an arrow was released or as she ducked underneath a knife swing was quite uniquely refreshing, in a strange, tiring sort of way. It made her feel...alive, she supposed. Purposeful.

It was one of the reasons why she was such an excellent Hunter (or so she hoped). Millennia of daily exercise and exertion has made her strong, lithe and enduring - even more so than when she was an immortal Hesperide. She could gladly run a mortal - what did they call it these days? Marathon? Yes, she could gladly run a mortal marathon without even breaking sweat, on one of her good days. And even on a particularly bad day, her endurance was usually far more than what the day held in store for her.

But even though the thrill of physical excitement rarely failed to satisfy her, when one has lived as long of a life as she has (nearly three millennia!), they have to be constantly seeking out new experiences, new activities, new recreations lest they become stagnant and inactive, and Zoë was no exception. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she had mortals to thank for that.

In Ancient Greece, sports, while not nearly as developed and diverse as the modern era, already had its fair place in the islanders' daily lives. In the days of the Greek city-states, when Theseus was running around killing the Minotaur and dumping Ariadne (Zoë had a healthy dose of disdain for the supposedly honorable son of Poseidon - he was just like all men, really), Greece was not yet a unified country. The city-states of the then divided islands constantly warred with each other. Zoë smiled slightly as she remembered the days when she ran around with the Hunt, defending cities under her lady's patronage. The days when gods were much more active and in the lives of mortals. The days when the Mist was not yet in existence.

However, even though the city-states had their fair share of animosity between them (Zoë shuddered at the gruesome battles which had happened between Athens and Sparta - Athena and Ares's cities, respectively), that did not stop them from enjoying their sports and having their fun. These days were also the days when the first Olympic Games were held. Deriving its name from its birthplace, Olympia, and also in honor of the original Mount Olympus, the ancient Games mainly comprised of athletics, fighting, and equestrian events. Zoë found them a terrible bore, tasteless and mundane, without any signs of the eloquence and grace of a hunter - especially when the contestants, nearly all male, decided to run naked. Zoë had trouble washing the images out of her mind ever since she had accidentally glimpsed Orsippus's groin. She had screamed a very uncharacteristically girly scream and almost shot the offending contestant. At least it was just an Iris-message.

Then came the Ancient Romans. The Ancient Romans sure knew how to party...which often included some "sports". Mainly fighting, but that's besides the point.

All frivolities aside, the Romans had developed some basic forms of ball games - they had a basic understanding of the modern handball and a few others hardly worth mentioning, due to their simplicity and tediousness. Most of the time, the most popular activities were still fighting - gladiators, wrestling, brawling, and probably dozens more which Zoë couldn't be bothered to think of. As she had said, they all lacked subtlety and grace.

It wasn't until modern times when many of the sports of today started to be invented and made popular. Soccer (or football, Zoë hated these English people with an inflated ego of national pride), the current most popular sport in the world, began in China nearly two thousand years ago in a basic form known as Tsu Chu, but it wasn't until the mid-late eighteen hundreds did England pick it up and formed the Football Association - the first official organization for soccer. The concept of basketball, one of the most popular sports in the United States - second only to baseball - and the world, was first developed by a doctor in Massachusetts. It had a strange sense of humorous irony to it, Zoë supposed, since the concept was first made to help condition young athletes in the winter, and ended up becoming one of the biggest sports of the past decades.

Zoë had her healthy dose of respect for the respective sports - she could appreciate the skill and teamwork it took, the various complicated tactics developed by the teams' managers to attempt to win a game. But, Zoë had never been very keen on the concept of team sports. Even after multiple millennia in the Hunt, she still felt more comfortable either on her own, or with just Artemis. It was refreshing, she supposed, to only have to worry about herself for a change. It was as if a huge burden was lifted off her shoulders whenever she got a few weeks alone with her goddess.

But tennis, oh, my. That was a different matter altogether. For starters, it wasn't a team sport - it took two to play a tennis match, one on each side, minding their own business. At worst, playing doubles with Artemis was a tolerable alternative, even though the only girls who knew how to play tennis in the Hunt were Naomi and Cynthia, and they were rather mediocre at it.

That wasn't what had drawn Zoë to the sport, however, when she had first encountered it in 1978, when Artemis had taken her out for a special trip to England to watch the women's singles final of the Wimbledon Championships - Martina Navratilova won the title then, if she recalled correctly, at the mere age of twenty-one. That was when Zoë had started - really started - to pay attention to this special sport, and the following year, she had excused herself from the Hunt for a week or so to watch the second week of the '79 Championships. Martina successfully defended her title, as she recalled, although the final wasn't all that exciting. Loathe as she was to admit it, the men's final was much more dramatic - a five-set comeback by the reigning champion, Björn Borg.

The following year, she attended all four Grand Slams of the year, from Australia, to France, to England again, and back to the US. She followed the sport closely for many decades - both the men's game and the women's, she might add. She was noticeably disappointed when the 1988 Australian Open decided to switch from the grass courts of Kooyong to the hard surface of the Rod Laver Arena. Grass court tennis had always held a certain charm to her - lacking the brutality of clay or the consistency of hard court tennis, grass courts more than made up for it by its high standards of movement and footwork - two elements of the game which Zoë appreciated immensely.

Perhaps that is why the Wimbledon Championships remain her favorite tournament even now, in the twenty-first century, along with the fact that the Center Court has its special pull; a feeling of royalty and regalness. The royal family of the United Kingdom often resides in the Royal Box to watch the matches and games - a fact which Zoë found ironic, considering the last time a British tennis player won a major, men or women, was in 1977.

She had to grudgingly admit that the men's game had a higher standard of playing than the women's game, in most cases, anyways. They simply hit with more power and accuracy; moved with more speed and control. Not that she would ever admit it out loud, but the new dominant force in men's tennis, Roger Federer, was remarkably handsome and graceful on court, especially on grass. As the winner of the last three Wimbledon Championships, he was looking promising to capture his fourth consecutive title in London - and she would be there to witness it, in two weeks' time.

But, for now, she was simply enjoying some casually competitive tennis with Artemis, here on - well, Center Court. It was quite easy, really, for Artemis to manipulate the Mist a tidbit and gain them access to the most prestigious tennis ground in the world.

The only problem right now was, Artemis was a _tad_ bit too good at the sport.

Zoë was not a sour loser...most of the time, and she didn't mind if she lost to Artemis (which happened more often than she cared to admit), as long as she was performing well. If she had tried her best, then that was nothing to sulk about.

However, that did _not_ mean Artemis was allowed to hit a line with pinpoint accuracy on every forehand. Nor did it mean she could somehow get to a ball which would've been a winner had it been anyone less than a goddess and turn it into a winner of her own. It _certainly_ didn't mean she could disrespect Zoë's hundred-and-twenty mile serve with a drop shot return which spun back over to her side of the net.

"Enjoying yourself so far, dear?" Artemis's amused voice drifted over to Zoë, who could only send a half-hearted glare at her goddess from her lying position on the ground, courtesy of a particularly infuriating rally when Artemis made her run from side to side, always keeping the ball just slow enough for Zoë to reach, but not enough to hit an effective, neutralizing shot. It had ended with a humiliating deep slice which had completely wrong-footed her and made her slip onto her backside on the green grass.

"I...hate...thee," she managed to gasp out. Artemis laughed, an infuriatingly captivating sound as she vaulted nimbly over the net to Zoë's side of the court.

"You told me not to go easy, Zoë," she reminded her smugly. "I am simply complying with your wishes."

"Oh, do shut up," Zoë groaned as she picked herself up. "I did _not_ give thee permission to hit the far edge of the line with every shot."

Artemis crouched down over Zoë, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. "My apologies, my dearest Nightshade. What will you have me do…" she traced a finger lazily across Zoë's cheek. "...as a punishment?"

"Thou art insatiable for the goddess of chastity." Zoë shook her head in mock disapprovement in an attempt to hide the blush threatening to flood her cheeks. She tried to roll out of Artemis's shadow, only to find herself caged by her goddess's slender arms and legs, with mere millimeters of space between their bodies. "My lady…"

"Can you blame me?" Artemis's hot breath tickled her nose. "You are too alluring for your own good, Zoë. This is all your fault." Her hand crept inside Zoë's shirt, making her breath hitch.

"We are in public…" Zoë pushed feebly against Artemis, but even she knew it was a terrible attempt at covering up her growing arousal. "On the Center Court of Wimbledon. This isn't appropriate-"

"Indeed," Artemis agreed. "Does that not make it all the more exciting?" Her lips drew closer and closer to Zoë's, the goddess's scent filling her nose with the wonderfully familiar smell of pine trees and forests after rainstorms. "The prospect of mortals seeing us, together…" She dragged the last word on for impossibly long. Zoë shut her eyes, trying to resist the temptation to just lean up and press her lips to her goddess's and-

"We have not finished our match," Zoë mumbled. The sudden withdrawal of Artemis's body heat nearly made her whine with loss. She opened her eyes again to see Artemis, entirely taken aback, start laughing incredulously.

"Of everything you can come up with, my love, that is the excuse you use?" Artemis shook her head as she pressed herself to Zoë once again, nearly making her sigh with satisfaction.

"Can thee blame me?" she mumbled. "With thy body pressing on top of mine…"

Artemis smirked and drew her face in for a kiss, making Zoë gasp in surprise. She tasted of wild berries, sour and sweet at the same time in an inexplicably addicting combination.

"I can count this one as your win, my brave one," Artemis murmured against her lips.

Zoë supposed it was a deal.


End file.
